


Open Window

by akisawana



Category: RWBY
Genre: M/M, Pre-Series, Robotics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-19
Updated: 2016-02-19
Packaged: 2018-05-21 14:52:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6055663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akisawana/pseuds/akisawana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Qrow comes in the window. And Ironwood's lap.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Open Window

**Author's Note:**

> SO HOW ABOUT THAT FINALE? I needed something happy after that. Pre-series, established relationship. Don't try any of this at home and always use protection.

The window in Ironwood’s office was broken, stuck open until someone had the time to tear it apart and replace the gear. Ironwood planned to do it when his schedule permitted, only bother someone else to do it if he absolutely had to. “This weekend,” he said aloud. “Before the storm comes Monday.”

“And if the storm comes early?” Qrow asked.

Only his legendary self-control -and Qrow’s long history of showing up with no warning -kept Ironwood from jumping a foot. And still, he set his datapad down a little too hard before spinning his chair around to see Qrow leaning against the window, one foot drawn up on the wall behind him, sipping from his flask. “I have a door,” Ironwood reminded him. “Please use it.”

“Too many people get in the way,” Qrow said. “Too many  _ cranky _ people. Why is everyone who works for you so uptight? Do you pick them that way or does it rub off on them after too much time around you?”

“They’re professionals.” Ironwood turned back to his paperwork. “And they appreciate professionalism. Is it any wonder they don’t appreciate  _ you _ ?”

“They’re control freaks, just like their boss.” Qrow smirked at him. Ironwood ignored him and turned around. “What, you don’t have time for me?”

“I have work to do. Go make an appointment with my secretary.” That would never happen, but Ironwood should get Winter and Qrow in a room together at some point. It would be worth the repair bill. Winter needed more experience with the unexpected, and Qrow needed to learn to use a door.

“Make me,” Qrow said, pushing off the wall to pace the room. Ironwood had a feeling that short of defenestrating him, there’d be no getting rid of the hunter. It wouldn’t be so bad; Qrow only transformed mid-air. They were six stories up. He would have plenty of time to grow wings before he hit the ground.

Of course, he’d fly right back in the window. “What are you even doing here, Qrow?”

“Heard there was an accident.” Qrow pointed his flask at Ironwood before taking a swig. “I wanted to see if the explosion killed you, or if you just hit your head hard enough to forget how to make a phone call.”

Explosion? That was a pretty strong word for what had happened. Ironwood’s leg had been easy enough to repair, and nobody knew about the  _ other _ casualty except… “What did Glynda tell you?”

“That you blew off my favorite part of your body.”

She didn’t. Except that she had, clearly, or Qrow wouldn’t be here. Ironwood exhaled, slowly. Yes, he’d taken heavy damage between his legs. But that had been all metal for years now anyways, and it was replaced easily enough.  _ Privately _ . Glynda would have never known if she hadn’t called him at three in the morning.

Which was why she had called then. Ozpin may be the master manipulator, but Ironwood suspected Glynda could outdo him, if she lost enough of her decency.

“It’s been repaired,” Ironwood said. “Can I get back to work now?”

“No.” Qrow stopped pacing, finally, and perched on Ironwood’s desk, to his right. “So does it still work or did you just make it look pretty?”

“I am  _ fully _ functional. I even made a few upgrades,” Ironwood said, voice dry as a Dust mine. He flicked the screens on his datapad around, settling on something that required less of his attention than before. He had no delusions of Qrow going away anytime soon.

Qrow poked his shoulder through Ironwood’s coat. “Take this off,” he said. “I want to see.”

“That’s not where I was hit,” Ironwood said, looking at Qrow out of the corner of his eye. He was going to discuss this development with Glynda later. If she was going to meddle in his personal affairs, call Qrow back from wherever the hell Ozpin had sent him, then Ironwood was going to give her  _ all _ the details.

Qrow frowned, and kicked his heels against the desk. “But I told Glynda -oh.” It was obvious when he connected the pieces, from the way his eyes widened and he sucked his breath in through his teeth. “I want to see,” he repeated.

“And I want to get this paperwork filled out,” Ironwood said. He wasn’t going to to sign anything he hadn’t read. Especially not something as important as the food for the garrison. An army marched on its stomach, after all. “It looks like we’ll both be disappointed tonight.”

“How can you get any work done in here? Doesn’t it get distracting?”

“No.”

“I guess you’re used to it, since you’re so shiny yourself.” Qrow looked around the room, his head bobbing like a bird’s. “Really, there’s sightlines and there’s seeing every damn thing from five different angles.”

“Get off my desk.” Ironwood didn’t look away from the order form. He’d approve it, this time, but he really needed to speak to this Gainsboro. There didn’t seem to be enough different fruits on the list. Nobody wanted an outbreak of scurvy, and a garrison bored of oranges was just as bad as a garrison without any at all.

“Do you know how far it is from Signal to here?” Qrow kicked his legs against the desk again, brought one foot up to rest on the opposite knee.

“Nobody asked you to come.” For this exact reason. Time with Qrow needed to be devoted entirely to him, or he got bored. Ironwood liked to schedule it ahead of time, make sure nothing would interrupt them. A bored Qrow did a lot of property damage.

“Aren’t you happy to see me?” Qrow leaned back on his hands, and Ironwood had to admit to himself that he was. Really, there was no reason he couldn’t take the rest of the evening off, take Qrow back to his bed and fuck him until he forgot his own name.

No reason except to make Qrow work for it. “No.”

“Aw, I bet you are.” Qrow slid over, almost in Ironwood’s lap, blocking him from his work completely. “I bet if I checked, your little soldier at least would be at attention.”

“Go right ahead. I have work to do.” Ironwood spread his knees a little, just enough to fit Qrow between them. Qrow slid off the desk and knelt in the spot Ironwood made, all in one fluid motion. “Maybe I’ll get lucky and he’ll be so distracted by shiny metal I can finish this,” Ironwood said to his empty office.

“We’ll see about that,” Qrow said, but Ironwood ignored him and tensed the muscles in his legs. That had once worked to hide his interest. Perhaps it could while Qrow unzipped Ironwood’s pants, reached inside with night-cool fingers and pulled his half-erect cock out. “This is distinctly less shiny than it should be,” he observed.

“I am  _ so  _ sorry to disappoint,” Ironwood said, not looking down.

“I can fix it.” Qrow ducked his head to sit back under the desk. How he fit under there, Ironwood wasn’t sure, but if he checked, he’d have to stop working and then he’d lose. After a minute, he felt Qrow’s fingers on himself once again, grasping firmly and in the other hand....sandpaper.

“You carry silicone carbide in your pocket?” Ironwood shook his head. “Of course you do.”

“Mm-hmm,” Qrow said, rubbing the paper in small circles. It wasn’t entirely necessary -Ironwood hadn’t left any sharp edges, any burrs or anything that could catch. He’d simply not gone all the way to a mirror finish yet. The sandpaper rolled easily across his metal, and the friction warmth only encouraged him to go rigid. And oh, the simple curves were so different from how he was normally touched, so different from what he was expecting.

“Wet sanding works better,” he heard himself saying.

Qrow stopped, and Ironwood almost cursed himself for pushing too far. But Qrow merely adjusted his grip and then leaned forward to take James’ cock in his mouth. James slammed his hand on the desk to keep from making a sound, from reaching under the table and grabbing dark hair. Qrow pulled back, holding only the tip, looked up at James through his lashes and let go with a pop.

James looked away, determined not to lose the game. Even as Qrow bent back over his lap with the sandpaper, James pretended to work. And it was only pretending, for how could he when he was acutely aware of every millimeter Qrow was going over, a bit of sandpaper wrapped around his finger, now slow and deep, now quick circles like birds wheeling high overhead.

“It does, Jimmy,” Qrow half-whispered, licking his way down again. “You should feel how much smoother it is already.”

“Again,” James said, and he was very proud of how steady his voice was. “I have work to do.” Work he wasn’t doing, not when Qrow was paying very close attention to the welded seam on the underside. That, James maybe needed help with, though he’d ask nobody else for it. It didn’t affect anyone but Qrow, after all.

“This might take a while,” Qrow said, running his tongue down where he’d just been sanding. James let him, let Qrow work his way back up and down with his warm sandpaper and hot mouth and cool fingers trailing after.

He didn’t let him for  _ too _ long, not when he still had a surprise upgrade waiting. Just long enough to believably finish looking over one last form, plus sixty white-knuckled seconds to keep Qrow humble. Then he reached down with his left hand to inspect Qrow’s work. “Good job,” he said, voice low as he could make it to keep from cracking in the middle. “Such a good job you’ve done.”

“I know my way around metal,” Qrow said. They both knew that there was still plenty of work to be done, but that was for later, in earnest. Not now. Not with James hauling Qrow up on his lap, not when Qrow wrapped his arms around James’ neck and kissed him like he’d pulled him out of the ocean.

Not when Qrow was hard as iron from his service. And oh, wasn’t that something to tease him about later, when Qrow wasn’t grinding against his hip and whimpering in his mouth. James leaned forward, found the pulse point under Qrow’s jaw and sucked, while Qrow rubbed tiny circles on the back of James’ neck until shivers ran down the tin man’s spine.

That wasn’t enough to keep James from his mission, and he leaned back in his chair, lube in hand. He’d learned, eventually, to just keep a damn bottle in his desk, just like Qrow had learned how to peel his own pants off without moving off of James’ lap more than absolutely necessary. Qrow hitched one of his legs over the arm of the chair, and shook his head when James reached for his cock.

“Want you,” he panted into James’ neck, and another thrill shivered his spine at how ragged those two words came out. Qrow was  _ never _ off his game, no matter how much alcohol was in him or blood was on the floor, and here he was in James’ lap unable to manage a complete sentence. James mouthed at his ear in response, felt the other man shake at that, and continued his attentions there while he worked his fingers in, first one and then the other, slow and careful.

It had been a long time, weeks, and he wanted to make sure Qrow was ready. It was hard to work him open properly, when Qrow was so tight around his fingers and so close to his cock and so, so eager. James closed his metal hand around Qrow’s hip, slid a third finger in knuckle-deep, and then fucked Qrow with his fingers until the other man was pushing back onto his hand, breathing curses into his shoulder.

“Turn around,” James ordered, pulling his hand out entirely. “On your knees.”

“You cold bastard,” Qrow swore, but he didn’t dare push James. He stood on shaking legs and then James helped him fold back into position, Qrow’s back pressed to James’ chest, James’ hands cupping Qrow’s hips as he eased him down onto thick warm metal.

Qrow tipped his head back onto James’ shoulder, let out the breath he’d been holding for far too long. James wrapped an iron arm around Qrow’s waist and waited until red eyes were open. “Ready?” he whispered, rolling his hips up and down as slowly as he could force himself.

Qrow nodded. “Yes, damn your third fucking eyebrow,  _ move _ .”

James didn’t -he had something better. He shifted his hips one last time -from the hand that clenched around his wrist he’d found the right spot. And then he turned his focus inward, started his latest motor, and set his cock vibrating at eighty-three hertz.

Qrow screamed, high and sharp, and James cut the motor as quickly as he dared. “What the fuck was that?” Qrow demanded.

Wasn’t it obvious? “Classified,” Ironwood deadpanned.

“Why did you  _ stop _ ?” Qrow rocked insistently in James’ lap. “Do you want me to shoot you?”

James hid a grin in the back of Qrow’s neck and started it up again. Qrow gripped the arms of the chair so hard his arms shook, and James ran the palm of his free hand down one to soothe him. It didn’t do much, and he instead reached around for Qrow’s long-neglected cock, hot and heavy in his hand. But Qrow was searing and tight around James, and the most delicious tiny moans were being ripped from his throat, and the vibrations rolled through both of them until he couldn’t remember what to do, how Qrow liked to be touched.

So he gripped Qrow like a pistol, let Qrow fuck his hand, and Qrow wasn’t complaining so it would do. James couldn’t keep his eyes open, too much sensation from skin and metal to handle vision, couldn’t manage anything except the growing pressure and Qrow’s relentless pace and after the end washed over him in white fire, all he knew was the sweat cooling across his back.

In his lap, Qrow stiffened, went limp, fell forward  and would have fallen off entirely if James’ arm hadn’t stayed the whole time. James cut the motor, kissed Qrow’s shoulder in apology, where he’d bitten down at some point without realizing it. They were quiet for a minute, the only sound their breathing heavy in the night.

“Back to work now, right?” Qrow asked the room. It was too late and too bright and his voice was harsh as a crow’s.

James nudged him off. “Actually, I was thinking of a shower,” he said, standing up for the first time in what had to be hours.

Qrow turned around, and smiled, and that was more important than anything James hadn’t done already. “Mind if I join you?”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading.


End file.
